The Final Goodbye
by withaflourish
Summary: Sereda Aeducan, Chancellor and mistress to the King, has had enough. She leaves Ferelden, but not before writing a letter explaining her reasons for doing so. One-shot; short angsty drabble. Read and review please!


Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all its characters belong to Bioware, not me.

Bold indicates what Sereda is writing in the letter

Author's Note: I was inspired to write this short drabble while reading _Spirit Bound_, part of the Vampire Academy series by the amazing Richelle Mead. This is my first Dragon Age fic, and constructive criticism is welcome. Enjoy, and please review.

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"I have given up on you. Love fades. Mine has."- _Spirit Bound_, by Richelle Mead

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_Fwoosh_. The sound of a match being lit broke the silence that had settled over the castle. As the match transferred its flame to a candle, one could see the face of the Royal Chancellor, Sereda Aeducan, illuminated in the flickering light. Using all the stealth that, as a rogue, she possessed, she slipped out of the King's bedroom and into a nearby study, complete with parchment and quills. Setting the candle down onto the desk, she grabbed a piece of parchment, a quill, and an inkwell, and started to write.

**My Dear Alistair-**

No, it was too painful to write that. She crossed the words out and started again.

**My King Alistair-**

Technically, he was no longer her king. Perhaps he never was. Nonetheless, they were not the right words to start off this letter.

**Your Royal Majesty Alistair**

Too formal. She sighed, and decided on something simple.

**Alistair-**

**I've stayed by your side for three years, but it's time for me to go. I don't belong here, and you know that. The surface is not my home, and I am not comfortable here like you are.**

Ceilings that stretched so high that she felt sick when she looked up at them. The sky, the never-ending sky that seemed to mock her with its twinkling stars at night, imperfect facsimiles of the gems that she was used to. The sun that burned, and the ever-present green. And then there was the court…

**The court is not the one I was born with; the nobility not my own. **

They had no castes on the surface; instead, they had teryns, banns, arls, knights; words that were foreign to her. She had not been trained to navigate through these gatherings and mingle with these people; she was useless. She scoffed at her title of Royal Chancellor. It was gilded paint brushed over a chipped statuette; a trinket that Alistair used as an excuse to keep her close by.

**They do not respect me here. You may think me soft, but you have not heard their whispers, their accusations. **

They weren't all false, of course. The speculations about her being the King's mistress were spot-on, not that she'd ever let them know. In all honesty, it wasn't the rumors that bothered her; there were rumors in Orzammar too. What _really_ troubled her was the lack of a Second. She missed Gorim's reassuring comments, his offers to assassinate every noble that dared to smear her reputation. For every awkward situation, he was always ready with advice. He kissed away every tear, something that Alistair could never do; she cried in secret now. After all, she had to appear strong, lest more rumors emerge.

**You and I have both forgotten that I am an Aeducan. A princess of the Stone, and a Paragon. **

She bit back the words that she couldn't bear to write down, as the tears that had prickled against her eyelids finally started to fall. She had become a _mistress_, like that Rica girl her brother kept around. Relegated to shadowy corners and quick trysts behind locked doors, she commanded no respect. If she returned to Orzammar, she would have her own house. She would become a princess again. She would have influence.

**I've seen Elissa Cousland around at court.**

Elissa Cousland, with her vibrant red hair and green eyes that constantly sparkled with wit and mirth. Elissa Cousland, sole survivor of a loving, almost-royal family. Elissa Cousland, whom Arl Eamon worshipped. Elissa Cousland, who was different from Sereda in every single way. Her parents had bred her to become a queen. She exuded royalty, from her posture to her tinkling laugh. Elissa was perfect, and perfectly smitten with Alistair.

**Marry her. She can give you what I can't.**

A child. A queen. Someone who could control the kingdom and teach him how to rule. Sereda knew that Elissa would love him. He would like her too; they got along well together. They would rule over a kingdom well together. Sereda had no place in their future.

**I love you. Maybe one day, I won't.**

**-Sereda Aeducan**

She left the tear-stained letter by his bedside table, along with his rose. It was a foolish gift; after all, what need could a dwarf have of an insignificant surface plant? Nonetheless, she stroked the velvety petals one last time before putting the flower down. She looked at Alistair's sleeping form; she could point out every single scar on that body without even looking. He looked vulnerable in his sleep, blissfully ignorant of the morning to come. No matter how hard times got though, she knew that he would get through them. He always did. He was no longer her templar, he was no longer her king, and he would probably no longer be her friend. But she could live with that; she would have to live with that. It was the price of freedom. She blew him one last kiss and walked out the door. She never looked back.


End file.
